


Grey (Though I Am Flesh)

by TheFire_in_the_NightSky



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Final Fantasy XV/Dragon Age: Inquisition AU, Grey Wardens, Iggy is a Dalish elf, M/M, Mage Ignis, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Noct is a city elf, Older Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, The Calling, What if? scenario, crossover AU, not much plot going on here folks, sharing a moment in time, the one Corypheus fakes anyhow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFire_in_the_NightSky/pseuds/TheFire_in_the_NightSky
Summary: Though I am flesh, Your Light is ever present,And those I have called, they remember,And they shall endure.I shall sing with them the Chant, and all will know,We are Yours, and none shall stand before us.-Trials 15:1, Chant of Light____________________________________________________________A moment in time shared, is perhaps not a moment guaranteed, just as time is fleeting. Though, it is still a thing of worth to be fought for, at any price named, for love does not heed guarantees, but promises of the soul.  Love does not lay down its arms.





	Grey (Though I Am Flesh)

**Author's Note:**

> Any Elvhen is translated in the end notes!

  
  


Grey-blue highlights the edges of shadows standing vigil in the room and Ignis tries his damndest to blink the bleariness away.  That familiar muzzy feeling that waking well before dawn brings comes coupled with a new type of disorientation he’s only grown accustomed to the passed few nights.

A slender arm around his ribs flexes tighter in frantic, sporadic movements.  He sits up quickly, hoping to jostle Noctis awake with the motion so he doesn’t risk another sloppy punch to the jaw stirring him otherwise.  But Noctis stays flat on his stomach, arm falling from Ignis’s torso to lay limp upon the mattress tick as he rises to his knees, looking Noctis over.

_ Creators,  _ another Void-forsaken nightmare.

Noctis pulls his arm inward, clutching against the pillow shielding half his grimacing face.  A short moment passes, and Ignis gives up hope Noct will rouse himself. In the waning moonlight, rivulets of sweat gleam on his skin, creating a beaded frame around the scar across Noct's back.  Tremors cause his shoulders to shake with each stuttered, fearful breath.

“Noct?   _ Noctis,”  _ Ignis calls, somewhere between a whisper and a hesitant shout.  Only pained moans come in answer. Heart thumping in his chest like the beat of wings, Ignis flicks his wrist and nubs of ivory wax come alight around them.

“Noctis!” His hand brushes a pale, clammy shoulder.  “Fenedhis, you have to come out of this!” Shaking him now, and eyes of deep blue peer back finally,  _ finally,  _ beneath dark pinched brows.  Noctis gasps and fights against Ignis weakly as he gathers him to his chest.  Mere seconds tick by before Noct is melting into the embrace so suddenly, he's like a marionette whose strings were cut.

Ignis brushes back his soot-black hair, and soothing words fall from his lips with a gentleness reserved for the most spirited beasts.  Pulling back, Noctis stares up at him, the warmth of candlelight lending a liveliness Ignis wishes would burrow itself beneath Noct’s skin, bring a pyre to that which will one day take him away.

Even with the evidence laughing in their faces, making itself painfully apparent, Ignis refuses to believe that day could come all too soon.   _ Days, a week perhaps,  _ his rational thought whispers to the part of himself that wishes to be stuck in a comfortable stasis buoyed by reassuring lies.  But there hasn’t been a Blight in… No, Ignis could want selfishly his time with Noctis to continue without end, he could ask those informed about average Warden lifespans perhaps, but that did not change the fact that they both always knew an end to their story would eventually come without warning.  

Ten years, thirty years, it did not matter.  Time will always feel cruelly snatched away from them.

“There were so many this time, Iggy.  Their flesh…” A shaky breath leaves Noctis in a shattered sigh.  His eyes flit away, but fingers stay strong against Ignis’s jaw. Noctis doesn’t always share in his darkness, but Ignis is ever willing to help him shoulder it.

“One of them looked like my father…  Ignis…” A palm against his cheek. “Do you think he became one of those ghoulish-”

_ “Hush,  _ Noct.  You needn’t dwell on things that will only bring you pain.  That was long ago…”

Noctis moves his thumb along the lines of deep green that branch across Ignis’s cheekbone; trailing through the faint scarring that interrupt the intricately tattooed pattern.  As Ignis shifts them to sit up, Noct sprawls sideways to lay his head in his lap instead. 

“I should go,” Noctis starts, resolutely.  “What Stroud told me… I think he could've been right.  And I could be a week behind them if I leave tomorrow.”

“You’ll do no such thing.  Noctis, do you have any idea how far it is to the Western Approach from here?”

“Do you?” he challenges, and that damnable furrow in Noct’s brow that Ignis always wants to smooth away with a kiss makes an appearance.  The first sign of an impending argument he knows he won’t win.

Ignis shuts his eyes, sighing through his nose.  He wants to say what he knows his throat, his tongue, his mouth won’t let him speak.   _ You could be dead by then, or worse.   _ The room goes quiet, save for the quiet buzz of his mana only he can hear.  His hands never still, working icy fingers into the skin around Noct’s temples to ward off any potential headache his lack of sleep usually brings.

“Your horse won’t make the entire trip,” Ignis offers instead.  It isn’t untrue, of course. The journey would require multiple stops to feed, water, and change horses.  “It is at least three weeks out, barring ill weather. And this is all disregarding the fact that you don’t even specifically know where this ritual tower  _ is,  _ Noct.”

Chuckling, Noctis tells him, “I think it’s safe to say I’ll know an old Tevinter ruin out in the desert when I see it.  Deserts are pretty flat, right? That thing’ll have to stand out like a beacon!”

Sometimes his lover’s optimism is quite vexing.

A chill drifts in from an open window nearby with the crisp, green scents nights of Cloudreach stir in the air.  Gooseflesh pricks across Ignis’s bare shoulders, Noctis mapping its rise with the brush of his hand along Ignis’s bicep.  He sits up finally, but coaxes Ignis to lie down. A sad smile graces his lips while he hovers above Ignis; a small, fractured thing that hides behind the guise of hope.

He supports himself on one elbow, letting his body heat envelope Ignis with the aid of soft, time-worn blankets.  Fingers brush a dark curtain of hair behind the tapered point of an ear, and Ignis can’t help but see just how those fingers - fingers that feel so strong in their grip when entwined with his own, still tremble.

But leaning down with all the slink and confidence of a wild cat, Noctis presses his lips to Ignis’s.  There is a hushed desperation within it, small embers of heat, then he pulls away. “I don’t want to go any more than you want me to, but I need to find out- I need to believe that this is all wrong, Ignis.  That these… twisted  _ voices  _ in my head shouldn’t be there,” he growls.  You and I could fight demons out here all day, or do something more.  And I think Warden Stroud could have been onto something. Our Warden Commander…” Noctis shakes his head, confusion and disappointment clear on his face.  “I won’t follow her blindly either, but I  _ have  _ to do something, Ignis.  This ‘Elder One’ could be fucking with our minds somehow.”  Panic and urgency make themselves known in Noct’s sure voice in only the ways Ignis can tell after all the years knowing this man.

Ignis slides a hand up Noct’s arm to grip his bare shoulder.  “You truly think what you hear inside your head to be false?  _ Noctis,  _ you’ve said you had all been experiencing the symptoms…”

_ “I know.”  _ Noctis nods.  “And  _ that  _ is what doesn’t make sense, Ignis.  Why would all of the Wardens hear this call at the same time?  Be experiencing the same things at once?”

“The coming of a Blight?” Ignis digs his fingers into Noctis’s shoulder a little harder, his whole body tensing with the utterance of those words.  He tries desperately to call on the modicum of information Noctis had once thrust at him three summers ago, prior to his Joining. But Noctis hadn’t even seemed to know all the answers then, nor after.

Cocking an eyebrow, Noctis says, “So soon?”

“How should I know these things?!” he nearly hisses.  Guilt immediately washes over Ignis for his tone. He reigns in his frustrations borne of fear, and sighs.  Brushing his own hair back, his fingers tighten in sand-coloured strands atop his crown as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  He feels the full weight of Noctis lie over him.

“Ir abelas, Iggy…”

A small smile tugs at one corner of Ignis’s mouth hearing Noct’s tender use of Elvhen - so rare a thing, as he’d been stubborn when they were younger to learn the phrases Ignis wanted to teach him.  He’d said there wasn’t a point when none of the other elves in his alienage knew a lick of it.

Ignis opens his eyes and cranes his neck to get a better look at his lover.  Noct peers up with cobalt eyes that are so very tired despite the bright, dancing flicker of light that reflects back within them in little flashes.  Reaching out with his magic, Ignis calms the flare of the nearby candles down to a whisper of flame upon a single wick by the bed, letting quieting shadows fall into the room more thickly.

“No, I am the one who should apologise.  Admittedly, I’m feeling a mite selfish, I suppose… I... worry, Noct…” He licks his lips, eyes darting away from Noctis’s to watch the way the night breaks through the tree line outside the window; dark silhouetted shapes swaying and trembling in the breeze.  “And my knowledge about Wardens is… aggravatingly little at best. Afterall, I am just a lowly hermit, as you’ve so deftly pointed out before.”

Noctis gives him a wicked smile.  “Hey, at least you’re not a spooky hedge-mage.  Though... you do use that creepy fox skull as part of your stave’s foci.”  He receives a tug on his hair for that remark.

“Mm… Perhaps I should affect the life of one, then.  I could start setting runes upon other animal bones, place them about the branches around the hovel in great bunches like wind chimes.  You could tell mysterious tales of me in town, startling enough to scare off even the most precocious of children.”

That earns Ignis an almost boyish giggle against his collarbone.

As it stands, he already has plenty of fire sigils placed strategically around his little stone shieling and the small adjacent stable.  Wayward, nocturnal forest-dwelling game stumbling through them on occasion is a necessary evil he’s learned to live with, unfortunately. Noctis once suggested it was a proper blessing from one of the gods he'd never paid worship to himself - joking that Ignis needn’t hunt nor cook an unsuspecting deer that wandered too close.  Ignis had then showed him the charred remains of both a rabbit and nug one morning, and Noctis quickly turned his nose up at the burnt, inedible meat.

Noct rolls onto his side and sinks into the cozy nook Ignis makes for him in the embrace of one open arm.  He curls close, head pillowed by the little concave dip between Ignis’s shoulder and chest. Always a perfect fit.

As if thinking on the protective fire mines himself, Noctis fiddles with the small rune stone that hangs around his neck on its short leather thong.  

He knows the path to the shieling by heart, and by knowing to look for the faint, warm glow of Ignis’s magic that would likely be missed by weak shemlen eyes.  Even still, Ignis has felt more at ease since making the elemental protection rune for him, lest his lover meet a crispy, blackened fate like some of the unfortunate Orlesian wildlife around here… and the occasional bandit or three.

Noct remains silent beside Ignis, perhaps pondering in thought, but it’s a quiet far too long for Ignis’s liking and his own anxious thoughts come clamouring back.

“I’ll come with you.”  Ignis’s hushed voice is a small, but strong rumble against Noctis’s ear.  He looks up at Ignis, eyes blinking rapidly. “If you’re leaving tomorrow, I am coming with you,” he clarifies, ignoring the deep knit slowly growing between Noct’s dark brows.

Letting his gaze fall, Noct tucks his head under Ignis’s chin as he tangles a leg with his beneath the blankets.

“There was a lot of rumour going around that our Warden Commander intends to use _ blood magic, _ Ignis… she said she had a plan to stop all Blights for good.  She kept having these secretive meetings with someone from that  _ Venatori  _ extremist group.  Stroud and I… we didn’t agree with her, of course…  _ that’s  _ why we were labeled traitors.”

Ignis can feel the arbitrary confession roll off of Noctis like a heavy fog dissipating over dark waters.  His entire body eases and grows more lax against him. Ignis presses his lips to the top of Noctis’s head, murmuring into his hair, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Warm fingers, calloused by the hilt of a sword, smooth across Ignis’s chest until Noctis reaches his destination, curling his hand around the nape of Ignis’s neck.  Lazily, he scoots upwards onto Ignis’s pillow in an attempt to meet his eyes; the green of his irises still piercing in the dim of the room.

“I figure you worry enough about me.  But now you know why I’ve got to do this alone.”

Ignis pivots his body so they’re actually eye-to-eye. “Vhenan, I only see a clearer reason to go with you.  Apparently you’ve not noticed,” Huddling closer, Ignis brushes his nose along Noct’s with the pause of two heartbeats. “but there is a large green tear in the sky and smaller tears in the Veil scattered about the lands.  

“If memory serves, you and I have even taken down demons creeping from them.  So you see, dearest Noctis, you aren’t going to scare me off with the potential threat of blood magic.”

Noctis’s face scrunches up into a poor attempt at a scowl.  “You’re going to come with me even if I tell you not to, aren’t you?”

“Undoubtedly.” Ignis’s voice is a sleepy rasp.  He wraps an arm around Noct’s middle, pulling him closer; shuts up any further response Noct could have with a kiss that, though lazy with a lingering drowsiness, is anything but chaste.

In that moment, Ignis is enraptured with the taste of life in this man - life that is not yet ready to be doused - and the comforting warmth of the flesh moving beneath and against his own.  He would lay down his life if it ever meant the salvation of Noctis’s own.

A hand against his chest, pushing so very gently.  Ignis pulls away from Noct regretfully.

“Wait… Ignis, there are still Red Templars scattered all throughout the land out there.” Noctis jabs a finger towards the nearby window while his eyebrows point downward in a frown.  “I’ve heard it’s getting bad in the areas around the Emerald Graves. If we run into them…” He shakes his head, quiet for a few beats. Ignis takes his hand.

“I’m not going to let them take you, Ignis.  I don’t care if most of them are mindless or not, they aren’t getting near you.  And  _ you’re not  _ getting anywhere near that red shit… Doesn’t take a mage to tell that that lyrium is... is  _ wrong.   _ And it seems like those Maker-forsaken monstrosities are setting up and guarding more and more encampments in the Dales.”

If these twisted and mangled red lyrium soldiers are invading anywhere near his homeland, it’s probably for the best that Ignis and his old mare, Cartanica, make themselves scarce regardless of Noct’s own plans to leave.  It is another good argument to have in his bag come morning, when he knows Noctis will try, once more in vain, to convince him to stay put.

He can be just as stubborn as Noctis, perhaps even more so.

Ignis simply gives him a vulpine grin, his head cocking to the side ever so slightly.  “Then I suppose we should guard each other.”

Noct groans and hides his face against Ignis’s chest.   _ “Fine.” _

 

Sunbeams reach through the foliage as morning continues its ascent into the sky.  The cool ground is dewy and slick beneath Ignis’s feet as he slows his steps, quietly watching Noct from a small distance.  He's tending to their horses without fuss, checking saddle bags and cinches, cooing and whispering to both mounts beneath the morning fog of the forest, completely oblivious and beautiful while Ignis tries to remain stealthy in his continued approach.

Cartanica snorts and pulls her dark, ashen muzzle from Noctis’s grasp to look in Ignis’s direction.   _ Damn.  Betrayed me, old girl. _

Ignis sighs. “She’s given me away.”

But Noctis beams over at him.  The sight of the proud griffons emblazoned on his chest plate has Ignis’s heart sinking a fraction.

Ignis walks beside his horse for a moment, easing a hand down her dappled flank strapped in dark leather.  Several feet away, Noctis’s phlegmatic steed, Doshiel, watches them; ears flicking twice in their direction, then he bows his head towards tall blades of grass to continue his lazy grazing when he seems to lose interest.  Ignis hopes that whomever they must eventually leave their horses with during their journey cares for them well.

He saunters his way to Noct and wraps his arms around him from behind.  Leaning forward, Ignis cranes his neck to kiss one corner of Noct’s smiling mouth.  A small laugh escapes him and he turns his head to capture Ignis’s mouth properly. It warms him to the core.

Noctis faces the mare once more, gloved fingers fiddling with her braided lead.  Ignis can feel his lover’s jaw clench against his cheek as he moves to rest his chin over Noct’s shoulder, see the slight quake in his hands now, this close.

“Headache, Noct?” he asks.

“Yeah… only a little one, though.  I’m good.” Noctis inhales, tilts his head against Ignis’s.  “You’ve got my back, Iggy?”

Without hesitation, Ignis answers him.  “Always. Ma emma  _ lath…  _ of course I do.”  Only then does Noctis exhale, and heavily so.

Noctis drops Cartanica’s lead and grasps Ignis’s protective, shielding hands and arms around him.  “Ar lath ma,” he whispers, lips utterly distracting and soft against the pointed shell of Ignis’s ear. 

He breathes back his own soul’s twin confession,  _ “Ar lath ma.” _

Noctis lifts Ignis’s left hand to his lips and kisses a knuckle, directly above the carved obsidian ring that sit upon his middle finger.  And once more - so simply - Ignis’s heart is filled with an unwavering hope and will to  _ fight.   _

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ir abelas - I'm sorry/an elven apology  
> Doshiel - lit. "grey wanderer"  
> Ma emma lath - you are my love  
> Ar lath ma - I love you
> 
> Just a little thing that had been rattling around in my brain.   
> Comments/feedback and kudos are much appreciated!


End file.
